Six Centuries of Calling Your Name
Oh holy mother
did you hear us
calling your name?
Was it worth
the agony?
Did you see your
history laid before you,
not as a line
but as a
mountain range?
Pointed with green
tree tops and capped
in white?
The density
of time, the
weight. Does it
crush your ashes
further into the silt
of the earth?
Do you feel each layer
of sediment from
the skin of your back
to the horizon, where
Heaven meets earth?
The pages of your book
keeping a chapter saved
for you through time?
Lead the army,
plead your case–
What was it
that you heard?
The voice whispered
“Follow me and
you’ll never be
lonely again.”
Was that us that
you heard?
Is your ghost
crowded by
your name being
sung?
Perhaps it’s time
for you to rest.
Let your name rest.
But we’ll say it again–
“Joan, where
are you?
Joan?
How did you?
Joan, where have
you been?
Joan?
Do you hear me?
Joan?”